Three Swans

 

A mist lay on the surface of the lake.

We seemed to swim in air

beneath that pre-dawn lemon-yellow light,

our bodies bare

 

and chilled within the boundaryless domain

where haze and water meet,

our fingers wrinkled, each of our toes numb,

and our hair wet.

 

The sun had climbed an intervening hill

and when at last it came

to the summit, it sent forth a single flare

like liquid flame.

 

Then suddenly the mist which had enclosed

us in a scattered glow,

a nimbus like the halo of a saint,

began to go.

 

And as the haze dried off we saw upon

the surface of the lake,

three swans, like tufts of white among the reeds,

barely awake.

 

Each swan had tucked a leg into its wing

and from its ankle shone,

on orange skin, a ring of antique gold

carved with a crown.

 

From each such ring depended a slim chain

linking it to another,

so that the three were inextricably

harnessed together.

 

We watched those white swans arch their supple necks

and felt their black eyes glare

as they rose from the surface of the lake, the maimed and lovely

Children of Lir.